The ultimate sacrifice
by MissEclipse
Summary: Continuing on from the TV series "Family Reunion". Face has just found out from Murdock that he was the son of a criminal called AJ Bancroft. But what of his mother, Samantha? Elsewhere, Murdock has to make another decision that could further threaten his friendship with his best buddy. Reviews most welcome and greatly appreciated. Final chapters now posted.
1. Chapter 1

**[_Disclaimer: Face and his A-Team buddies are the sole creation of Mr S J Cannell_ (RIP)]**

**Prologue**

_[Timeline: 7 December 1954 – Los Angeles_] [_Warning: this chapter contains mild references to prostitution and drug abuse._]

Samantha Bancroft sighed heavily as she lay in her bed, looking numbly at the money that had been flung casually on the pillow by one of her clients. "_How did I end up like this?"_ she asked herself. She hated what she had become. She was nothing more than a heroin junkie who had fallen into prostitution in order to pay for her expensive habit.

She thought back to when it had all started to go wrong. Since her husband, AJ, had ran out on her two years ago, she had struggled to provide for herself and her young son, Richard.

Having been childhood sweethearts, she had fallen pregnant at 16 – outside of wedlock. This had caused shockwaves amongst her strict, catholic family. A hastily arranged marriage had taken place, which her parents were strongly opposed to. They had never approved of her young man and swiftly disowned her and her unborn child shortly after they were married.

AJ's mother had died when he was young, but his father had supported them during the first 18 months of their marriage. But after his death, it wasn't long before it all started to fall apart.

AJ had grown restless and found it hard coping with the responsibility of bringing up a baby. There were things he wanted to do and in the end his ambition took precedence over his family. He had lied and cheated to get what he wanted and at the same time had put his wife and son in great danger.

Shortly after he disappeared, strangers kept coming to the house, asking Samantha where he was. When she said she didn't know, they had become violent towards her and her son. They appeared to be above the law as there was very little the Police could do to help her. Becoming afraid for their lives, she decided to flee from their rented home in the middle of the night, to escape from the gangsters who constantly harassed her.

In fact, in the early days, she had frequently moved from one rented apartment to another in order to evade being found by her husband's aggressors. She became paranoid about making friends, in case her whereabouts was made known to the wrong people. Her predicament made her feel isolated and lonely. She had made an effort to get in touch with her parents, but she had moved around so much that eventually they lost contact with her and the letters stopped coming.

The paltry benefits she received were barely enough to live on and she became desperate in her efforts to make ends meet. So she started to take risks. She would leave little Richard on his own for a few hours in the early morning, whilst she worked as a cleaner in some nearby offices. When the money ran out, she resorted to stealing from local markets and shops.

When that still wasn't enough, she soon learned that her young, pretty disposition could work to her advantage. She was not proud of herself for the way she lived her life, or the people she had become associated with, but she would do anything to protect her son and keep a roof over their heads.

But eventually, as her anxiety continued to escalate, so her confidence and poise declined. Her seedy lifestyle had made it easy for her to obtain what she needed. It didn't take long to become addicted to the heroin rush that helped her to relax and forget her troubles. Her health began to suffer as the effects of the drugs took over her body. She lost weight from loss of appetite and her sleeping patterns became erratic. Her stunning good looks were beginning to deteriorate and her golden locks had faded and lost their shine.

She started to neglect her son, as the only thing that became important to her was getting her next fix. He often sat with her, his sweet, tear-stained face, full of sadness as he witnessed the coughing and sweating fits, wiping the vomit carefully away from her chin with a dirty towel.

"Mommy?"

Samantha jumped at the sound of his little voice. She had been so wrapped up in her thoughts, that she hadn't noticed he had scrambled up on to the bed beside her.

"Hungry, mommy," he said in a pitiful tone that made her heart plummet like a stone.

She drew him into a defensive embrace. She knew there was hardly anything to give him to eat, except maybe a piece of stale bread and jam. Angry tears welled up in her once cornflower blue eyes, that were now sunken and bloodshot. Somewhere in the depths of her befuddled mind, she knew she had become a bad mother to her son. She looked with disgust around their grimy, untidy apartment, eyeing up his threadbare clothes with great shame.

He didn't deserve to live like this and she knew she couldn't look after him anymore. Damn it, she couldn't even look after herself, never mind her 4 year-old son. She remembered back to the days when he had been the most precious possession in her life – before she had become reliant on the harmful toxic contaminants that dulled her senses and stripped her of all reasoning and reality.

There was only one decent thing left she could do for him. With this thought in mind, she climbed out of bed and prepared him some toast and jam. He sat cheerfully at the table, humming merrily away to himself, whilst she quickly got dressed. She then packed a bag with some of his meagre possessions. She was careful not to put anything in it which would alert anyone to who he was or where he came from. She was still petrified that the bad people would get to him if they found out where he was.

She sat and watched him for a while, with a deep sense of pride. It had always amazed her that he had remained placid, gentle and even-tempered, despite the turbulence that had followed him around during his young life. As he threw her an irresistible, hypnotising smile, she knew instantly that he was going to have one of those special gifts that would endear himself to everyone he met. He was truly the one good thing that she had managed to get right.

After breakfast she bundled him up in his coat and hat. She grabbed the money from the pillow and together they walked out into the cold, December morning. After a short walk, she reached her destination outside the Sacred Heart Orphanage. She sat Richard down on a sheltered part of the steps near the entrance, where he would be shielded from the bitter wind and spoke gently to him.

"There you go, my precious," she said, her voice breaking with unfathomable guilt and remorse. "You stay here like a good boy and mommy will be back to pick you up soon. Okay?"

He nodded back at her, his eyes full of trust and expectation. She handed him a bag of liquorice that she had bought for him on the way to the orphanage. She gave him a big hug, which he returned, before delving into his tasty treat.

Samantha hurried down the steps and crossed over the road, anxiously keeping her son in full view of where she stood. After about 15 minutes, she saw a priest, whom she knew on sight as Father O'Malley, ascending the orphanage steps. He stopped in surprise when he saw the boy sitting at the entrance.

"Jesus, Mary, Joseph and all the Saints!" he exclaimed, his accent heavy with an Irish lilt. "Who the devil have we got here then?"

Richard stared back mutely at the priest, still clinging on to his bag of liquorice. He couldn't tell the priest his name, because within their insular existence, he had never heard his mom call him anything other than "precious" or "baby".

Father O'Malley glanced around him, a puzzled look on his face. Seeing nothing to arouse suspicion he stooped down and held out a hand to the boy, who immediately withdrew back, frowning deeply.

"Mommy said wait here," he said simply, but firmly.

Father O'Malley smiled back at him with some concern.

"Well, little one, why don't we wait inside where its warm?" he said kindly. "Your mommy wouldn't want you to be sitting out here on your own, to be sure."

Richard held the priest's gaze for a few seconds, almost as if he was sizing him up. Finally he got up, taking hold of the out-stretched hand. The priest took one more furtive glance around him before leading the little boy into the orphanage. As the door closed behind them, Samantha heaved a sigh of relief.

"May God forgive me," she sobbed, as she started to walk away down the street. She looked back one more time, before adding in a hushed whisper, "I'll be back for you soon, baby. I promise."


	2. Chapter 1: After Thanksgiving

**Chapter 1: After Thanksgiving**

[_Timeline: 7 Dec 1986 – St Augustine, Florida_]

After the shock of finding out that he had a father and then having to come to terms with his unexpected death, Face needed some timeout to gather his thoughts together.

His half-sister, Ellen Bancroft, had delivered her father's infamous diary to the Congressional Committee, successfully framing her abductor, Jacob Edwards - the bent politician who would have been up for a presidential appointment if the contents of his dirty dealings in the diary hadn't been revealed.

Once a few days had elapsed and all the fuss about the diary had diminished, Ellen made arrangements to return home. For security reasons, General Stockwell had allowed Face to return with her, thinking also that they could use the time to get acquainted with each other.

Ellen was married with two young children, whom she was extremely protective of. Although she was gracious enough to allow Face into her home, there was a guarded look in her eye. She was finding it hard to accept that she had yet another fugitive in the family.

She was polite and answered Face's questions about their father as best as she could. She told him that AJ had walked out on her and her mother when she was six, probably because his political indiscretions had come to light. She had not heard from him since until she had been informed that he wanted to see her, 20 years later. Although she had come to accept her father's wrong-doings, she was still very bitter about the whole affair.

After a couple of days, Face felt like he had out-stayed his welcome. It was obvious she wasn't interested in a long-term relationship with her new-found half-brother. The atmosphere between them was strained and awkward. Face knew deep down in his heart, that the only thing they would ever have in common, was the fact that they shared the same resentment and disappointment over who their father was.

So early the next morning he took his leave. She had sincerely wished him well on his departure, but still remained reserved and distant. There was no mention of them keeping in touch. As Face drove off in his Vette, he knew that he would never see her again. Another door connecting him to his past had just been slammed shut in his face.

He sighed as he began his long drive back to the lodge he had scammed in Osceola National Park. The rest of the team would be waiting for him there and then they would all return to Langley together.

He drove along in complete silence, not even putting on the radio for company. Ironically, he was well aware that the date was 7th December – exactly 32 years to the day when his mother had left him on the steps of the Sacred Heart Orphanage. Not knowing anything about him, the kindly priest who had found him there had unofficially made it Face's birth date, estimating from the labels in his shabby clothes that he must be at least 4 years old.

Maybe Face was looking for a distraction to remind himself how much he hated his birthday, because half way through the journey, his gut instinct told him he was being followed. He was sure that the black sedan, a few cars back, had been tailing him since he had left Ellen's house.

His senses began to tingle nervously. He slowed down, so that he was driving just below the speed limit. The cars immediately behind him began to over-take him. But the driver of the sedan seemed perfectly happy to match his speed and was now cruising along right behind him.

Face began to feel uneasy. He put his foot down and sped up, suddenly swerving off the road at the next turning without warning. His wheels screeched in protest at the unexpected change of direction. He almost lost control of the Vette as he took the corner without breaking.

As he glanced back through his rear view mirror, he could see that the driver of the sedan - who did not have time to take the corner and had gone past the turn-off - had jammed on his breaks and was making a dangerous U-turn manoeuvre to bring the car back round.

Luckily, still being relatively early in the morning, there wasn't much traffic coming the other way, so the driver narrowly missed causing a pile-up as he raced back to the turn-off to catch up with Face.

He may not have possessed BA's expert driving skills, but Face still managed to keep a safe distance between himself and the sedan. He was holding his own quite nicely until he heard a round of gun-shots being fired in his direction. He instinctively ducked down, reducing speed in the process and was aware that the sedan was gradually catching him up.

As he continued to dodge the bullets, the sedan was now up to his rear bumper. The driver rammed into the back of Face a few times until eventually he lost control of the Vette and careered off the road straight into a ditch, pitching over to the right before coming to a standstill. The sedan pulled up to his left side, blocking any chance of his escape route out of the car. Three extremely large men got out of the sedan and pointed their guns straight at the Lieutenant.

Face stuck his head out of the window, raising his hands over his head in submission.

"Hi guys!" he quipped. "Isn't it a bit early in the morning to be playing bumper cars?"

"Get out!" ordered one of the men. "And keep your hands where we can see them."

Face complied with the order, knowing that he had no other option as he was hopelessly out-numbered.

"Why you're all standing around looking tough," he jibed flippantly, "Would you mind telling me what all this is about?"

"We want the diary?" snapped back the curt reply.

"Diary?" repeated Face, faking mock ignorance to its reference.

"AJ Bancroft's diary!" growled a particularly mean looking dude. "The one that has ended up in General Stockwell's possession and which you are obligingly going to acquire for us."

"_Shit_!" thought Face to himself. Obviously Jacob Edwards wasn't the only crooked villain desperate to get hold of Bancroft's memoirs.

"Well gentlemen," he replied, as he gathered his wits about him. "As much as I would like to oblige, I'm afraid I don't have the General's ear in such matters."

One of the hoodlums stepped forward and grabbed him by his jacket, raising him slightly off his feet in the process!

"Don't get smart with us!" he growled at him in a threatening manner. "You better find a way of gettin' it or you can say good-bye to that pretty little sister of yours!"

As if to make his point, he tossed Face through the air like he was a feather duster. He landed on the ground with a crash, gasping for breath as the wind was knocked out of him. He was aware that a massive foot was bearing down on him.

"Oh no!" he groaned inwardly, before his lights went out. "Not the face – anywhere but the face!"

The driver turned to the guerrilla who had thrown Face to the ground.

"Stick him in the back of the car and let's get out of here!" he drawled.

"What about his car?" asked the other man.

"Just leave it there," replied the driver. "He won't be needing it any time soon!"

[_Author's note: Okay, so I penned this whilst stuck on a commuter train on the way home from work today. I've always wanted to write a story about Face's mum and this seemed the best place to start. I hope I am doing it some justice. Hope to update soon._]


	3. Chapter 2: Missing!

**Chapter 2: Missing!**

Hannibal didn't look happy as he put the phone down.

"Well!" enquired BA impatiently, who was bristling like an old mother hen beside him.

"Apparently Face left Ellen's early this morning – about 6.30 am," replied Hannibal. He frowned as he looked at his watch. "That was over four hours ago."

"Don't make no sense, Hannibal," huffed BA. "It should only have taken Faceman 1½ hours max to drive back from Florida."

"Maybe he … you know … hooked up with a girl?" suggested Frankie, hesitantly. Taking Face's track record into consideration, the idea wasn't exactly without merit. But Hannibal shook his head slowly, as he finished his cigar and promptly lit up another.

"I don't think so," he said doubtfully. "He knows the rules about staying in contact. Besides, I'm not sure he would have been in the right mood for a romantic liaison."

Murdock shot Hannibal a worried glance. He had been very withdrawn since he had admitted to Face that he knew AJ Bancroft was his father. Face hadn't taken the news very well and was angry that Murdock hadn't told him earlier, before AJ had died. There was no denying that his indiscretion had put a strain on their friendship.

"Ellen blew him out, didn't she Colonel?" he asked, the pools of his brown eyes full of concern.

"Looks like it, Captain," acknowledged Hannibal, sadly. "I got the distinct impression she wasn't up to playing happy families."

"I hope he hasn't done anything stupid," continued Murdock, in a subdued voice, knowing that Face would take the rejection badly.

"Why would he do that?" enquired Frankie.

"Oh, I don't know!" snapped Murdock, irritably. "He's just found out that he's the son of a known criminal and been rejected by his newly-found half-sister. And on top of that, he now thinks his best friend has betrayed him!"

"That's not true, Murdock," said Hannibal. He understands your reasons for not telling him straight-away."

"It's not just that, Hannibal," sighed Murdock. "You know it's his birthday today, don't you?"

Hannibal tutted in frustration. Amongst all the excitement, he had completely forgotten it was Face's birthday.

"But surely that's a good thing – right?" asked Frankie, a confused look on his face.

"Wrong sucker!" exclaimed BA. "He hates his birthday. It reminds him of the day his mama left him at the orphanage."

Murdock's eyes burned with a renewed intensity. Face was always vulnerable at this time of year. He never said anything, but his thoughts were always kept hidden safely away in a place where Murdock couldn't reach him. But at least he always had his buddies around him for support. It pained the pilot to think that Face thought nobody cared about him.

"We gotta find him, Colonel!" he blurted out, suddenly grabbing Hannibal's shoulders as if to emphasise the urgency of his statement. "Face is in trouble – I just know he is!"

"Okay, Murdock, take it easy," said Hannibal, slightly alarmed by the hysteria in the pilot's voice.

Murdock backed off, but it was obvious he was very distressed. Hannibal inhaled his cigar smoke deeply, as he eyed him up, nervously. He trusted Murdock's instinct when it came to Face. The pair always did have a sixth sense about knowing when the other one was in trouble.

"BA, you and Frankie take the van and see if you can find any trace of Face or the Vette," he said. "Report back every half an hour – I don't want you two going missing as well!"

"You think somethin' bad is goin' down, Colonel?" asked BA.

"I don't know," replied Hannibal. "But if Murdock thinks something is wrong, then I trust his instincts."

"If anyone's hurt ma littl' brother, they're gonna have to answer to me!" growled BA, as he bounded out of the room, with Frankie running to keep up with him.

"Face, where are you, buddy?" murmured Murdock.

"We'll find him," said Hannibal, putting a reassuring hand on Murdock's shoulder. "He's probably just licking his wounds somewhere – you know how proud he is."

"But why hasn't he rang to say he's okay?" asked Murdock. "It doesn't add up, Hannibal. No matter what Face's reasons are for running off, he would still get in contact, coz he wouldn't want us to worry about him. Something's wrong."

Hannibal knew deep down that Murdock was right.


	4. Chapter 3: Blackmail and deception

**Chapter 3: Blackmail and deception**

Face wasn't sure what woke him up. Perhaps it was the coldness of the damp room, or the hard, uncomfortable mattress he appeared to be lying on. Or maybe it was the excruciating, throbbing sensation exploding from the side of his face – the result of being stamped on earlier.

He gingerly touched the injured part of his cheek, immediately moaning in pain as the slight pressure of his fingertips seemed to escalate his discomfort. It hurt so much, Face wondered if his cheekbone was broken. He was also aware that his eye was swollen.

He glanced down and noticed is dirty and blood-stained jacket and clothes.

"Just dandy!" he thought to himself. "My taylor's gonna love me!"

As he slowly started to gather his thoughts together, the recollection of the three men abducting him triggered his memory and he wondered where he was.

He could barely make out his surroundings as he squinted around the poorly lit room. There were no windows and a small light bulb hanging from the ceiling seemed to be the only source of light.

He got up from the bed, swaying slightly as nausea momentarily overpowered him. He walked unsteadily over to the door, but wasn't surprised to find it was locked. He padded back to the bed and sat up against the headboard. With no obvious escape route out of the room, there was nothing he could do but wait for his abductors to make the next move.

It didn't take long for the bad guys to turn up.

"Hi!" he said casually. "Is this a good time to ask for an upgrade to a better room?"

Two of the over-sized sleazeballs who had captured him earlier, dragged him unceremoniously off the bed. Face sighed quietly to himself. He had a feeling it was going to be another lousy birthday!

A well-dressed, white-haired gentleman stepped forward, staring at Face in a disconcerting manner for several seconds before finally addressing him.

"You can get the diary from General Stockwell?" he asked him directly, not bothering to beat about the bush as to what he wanted. Face could tell from his tone of voice that he was expecting him to comply with the request.

"Well," replied Face. "Like I told Pinky and Perky here, I'm not exactly General Stockwell's number one fan."

One of the thugs who were holding him swiftly punched him in the stomach. Face winced as he doubled up with pain.

"You are Lieutenant Templeton Peck are you not?" the man scrutinised firmly in an authoritive manner. "Served with the 1st Air Cavalry and 5th Special Forces (Airborne). Medals, amongst others, include the Bronze Star, Purple Heart and the Vietnam Service Medal. Three unit citations. A very capable second-in-command behind Colonel John Smith, with a reputation for being able to procure anything at any time. So surely you should have no problems acquiring this small item for me?"

Face thought quickly about his next move. He knew Stockwell would never agree to give up the diary. It represented power and supremacy – two things that the General held in very high esteem – much higher than he held Lieutenant Templeton Peck. He tried to divert the conversation away from the diary.

"I appear to be at a disadvantage here," he said. "You seem to know all about me but I didn't catch your name."

"My name is Colonel Thomas Radcliffe," came back the terse reply. "I'm sure I don't have to spell it out to you, but I worked with your father on a specific assignment that I am very keen to keep under wraps."

"Let's get one thing clear," retorted Face. "AJ Bancroft is my father in name only. I knew nothing about his existence until a few weeks ago and know even less about his dirty dealings. If you've brought me here expecting me to spill the beans about what was in the diary, then you're going to be sadly disappointed. Get yourself another Stool Pigeon!"

Colonel Radcliffe remained silent whilst he listened to Face's lament.

"That's quite a speech, Lieutenant," he said, finally. "But I will get the diary one way or another. I was hoping that Stockwell would agree to a simple trade. You for the diary. If he complies, it will save a lot of time. If he doesn't, well we'll have to resort to other methods."

"Stockwell won't give the diary up," Face reiterated, quietly but firmly. "So why don't we just stop wasting time and skip straight to plan B?"

"Hmmm!" contemplated the Colonel. "Of course I do have other bargaining tools at my disposal to get want I want."

Face felt a shiver run down his spine. There was something chilling about this man's demeanour. He had a feeling in the pit of his stomach that Ellen was somehow going to be used as his bargaining tool.

"Look!" he tried to reason with Radcliffe. "If you're thinking of using Ellen Bancroft to blackmail me, it won't do any good. General Stockwell isn't a fool. He'll know immediately there would be a connection if we both go missing."

"That's why I intend to send you back, Lieutenant," explained Radcliffe. "I can get to Miss Bancroft at any time. But like you so rightly say, that would cause suspicion. There is no need to alarm the young lady just yet – unless of course you don't come back with the goods!"

"Let me get this straight!" said Face in astonishment. "You want me to go back to Langley, find out where the diary is and then bring it back to you?"

Radcliffe nodded in acknowledgement.

"And how exactly do you propose I achieve all this?" asked Face.

"I'm assuming, Lieutenant Peck, that you will use your unconventional talents to find a way to breach security and get to Stockwell," said Radcliffe. "Of course you won't be alone. You will have the back-up of one of my best men to help you."

"And what if I refuse to do it," said Face, defiantly.

"I think you already know the answer to that, Lieutenant," threatened Radcliffe. He shook his head in mock sympathy as he added, "Such a pretty girl. Would be a shame if her children lost their mother whilst they're still so young."

"Alright, Radcliffe, you've made your point!" Face spat the words out at him in pure contempt.

"You realise there can't be any mistakes," continued Radcliffe. "If anyone in your team suspects what you are up to or you fail to bring back the diary …. well … there will be no second chances for you or your sister."

"They're gonna realise it was me that took the diary at some point," said Face. "What the hell am I supposed to do afterwards? There's no way Stockwell will put me back on the team."

"I'm always looking for good men," offered Radcliffe, in what seemed like a genuine proposal. "With your skills and talents, you could have it all – money; power; position."

"No thanks!" rebuffed the conman. "I'd rather face the execution squad again!"

Radcliffe guffawed loudly at Face's remark.

"It would appear you have principles, Lieutenant," remarked Radcliffe, with an air of bemusement. "Obviously a trait you didn't inherit from your father!"

Face just stared blankly back at Radcliffe.

"Well, I don't think there is anything else we need to discuss," said Radcliffe. He snapped his fingers and the driver of the black sedan suddenly made an appearance.

"Take Lieutenant Peck back to his car," ordered Radcliffe.

"Is that it?" asked Face, a bit surprised at the abrupt end to the meeting.

"For now," replied Radcliffe. "My man will get in touch with you on your return to Langley. Oh, and Lieutenant," added Radcliffe with a snigger. "I think you ought to see a doctor about that face injury. It looks very nasty!"

Face ignored the remark as he was escorted out of the room by the driver.

Seconds after Face's departure, Radcliffe's deputy entered the room. He was a tall, black-haired Italian who went by the name of Vincent Luciano. He was well-known for his connections with the Mob.

He stood-by, a sly smirk on his face, as he waited for instructions from his boss. It had been his idea to kidnap Peck. But what the Colonel didn't know, was that when he had finished with him, Luciano had his own personal score to settle with Richard Bancroft.


	5. Chapter 4: Meltdown

**Chapter 4: Meltdown**

After a couple of hours had elapsed, BA and Frankie returned from their search. Hannibal, who had hardly moved from his position next to the phone since Face's dubious disappearance, raised his eyebrows at them expectantly, as they reported back to him.

"Sorry, Johnny," said Frankie. "There was no sign of Face or the Vette. It's like he just disappeared."

Hannibal frowned deeply. He was at a loss to know what to do next. With no contact from Face, he could only assume that his Lieutenant had been snatched. But by whom? And why? He was just about to make a decision to get Stockwell involved, when a movement in the doorway made him look up.

"Face!" exclaimed Hannibal, who couldn't quite disguise his shock when he saw the state of his dishevelled Lieutenant.

Everyone turned round in surprise. Murdock ran in earnest towards Face and threw his arms around him, as if he was scared that he was going to suddenly disappear again!

Face flinched awkwardly at Murdock's show of affection, somehow managing to wriggle his way out of his hold.

"Whoa back Face!" exclaimed Frankie. "What did you do man – bump into some young lady's angry husband!"

It may only have been a joke, but Frankie's words stung Face deeper than his injuries. Did they really think he was that shallow? However, he managed to give Frankie a winning smile through gritted teeth, without giving any further explanation as to how he came about his misfortune.

"You sure you're okay, buddy?" asked Murdock, anxiously.

"Nothing a shower and a change of clothes won't fix," lied Face. His body felt like he had just been run over by an express train, as the after effects of being thrown to the ground and punched in the stomach began to kick in. Also, his cheek hurt like hell, but he wasn't going to let the team know that. Besides, despite his first impression, he was pretty sure he hadn't broken any bones. He turned back on his heels as if he was going to leave the room, but Hannibal stopped him in his tracks.

"Just a minute, Lieutenant," he said firmly. "An explanation would be nice. You've been missing for over six hours. Do you want to enlighten us all as to what exactly you've been doing all this time?"

"I was pissed off and went out looking for trouble," replied Face, sulkily, hoping that Hannibal would give him the benefit of the doubt. Chances were he already knew that his stay with Ellen hadn't gone well and would assume that he needed to let off a bit of steam.

Hannibal's cool, razor-sharp expression didn't waiver for a second. He didn't believe Face, but this wasn't the time to engage him in any rational discussion.

"Okay, Lieutenant," he said. "Get cleaned up and report back here on the double. Stockwell's expecting us back in Langley by this evening."

"Don't tell me what to do!" shouted Face. "You're not my father!"

Everyone started at Face, slightly aghast at his outburst. He glared back at them, his cheeks burning crimson with fury before finally fleeing from the room.

"Where the hell did that come from?" asked BA, his voice uncharacteristically full of concern.

"Looks like Face is having a bad birthday," said Hannibal in a light-hearted manner. But he felt uneasy. It was very rare the conman showed any kind of emotion and when he did, there was usually good reason for it.

"It's my fault," reproached Murdock, despondently. "I should have told him about AJ as soon as I found out he was his father."

"No good frettin' about it now fool!" growled BA. But again, there was none of his usual tetchiness in his voice. "It won't help Faceman if he sees ya lookin' sorry for ya'self."

"I guess so, Oh Bracken One!" quipped back Murdock.

"Well, now Face is back, we better get ready to return to Langley," said Hannibal. "BA, help me check over the vehicles before they go back into storage. Frankie, gather up the weapons and do an arsenal check."

"What about me, Colonel?" asked Murdock.

"Stay here and keep any eye on Face," replied Hannibal. "And Captain, try to find a way to sort out your differences."


	6. Chapter 5: Food for thought

**Chapter 5: Food for thought**

Murdock made himself busy, gathering together various items and belongings needed for their flight back to Langley. He waited until he heard Face come out of the shower and after ten minutes or so he went into the kitchen and opened up the freezer. He took out a bag of ice and slowly made his way towards Face's room.

He knocked gently on the door. Face didn't answer at first, so he knocked again, a bit louder.

"Come in, Murdock!" yelled back Face, the irritation in his voice not going undetected by the pilot.

"How did you know it was me, muchacho?" he said, as he poked his head round the door.

"Hannibal sent you here to give me a pep talk – right?" replied Face, as he ran his fingers through his wet hair.

Murdock nodded back, a sheepish look on his face.

"Thought you might need this," he said, holding out the cold pack to Face as if it was some kind of peace-offering. "Might even help to break the ice," he added, coyly.

"Thanks," said Face, gratefully. He sat down on the bed and carefully placed the ice bag against his bruised cheek and swollen eye. Murdock pulled over a chair from the corner of the room and sat down opposite him.

"Faceman," he began, apologetically. But Face cut him off before he could say any more.

"It's okay, Murdock," he replied, enjoying the soothing feel of the ice pack on his cheek. "It's like you said – we don't need to keep falling over our lips apologising to each other."

"If there had been any other way of telling you," faltered Murdock, still unable to stop the guilt from making him feel emotional.

"Perhaps it might have been for the best if I didn't know the truth," said Face, pensively.

"Wotcha mean?" asked Murdock, slightly startled by Face's statement.

"Well, it's not like he would have won any awards for father of the year!" mused Face. "I mean, would you want to know that your pa was a low-down, double-crossing, cheating crook?"

"Er, well …. accordingly to Grandma … actually he was!" said Murdock.

"Damn it!" hissed Face. "I'm sorry, Murdock. I guess I was just thinking about myself again."

Murdock dismissed the remark with a wave of his hand.

"You, know, Facey," he pondered. "Ellen's a fool if she doesn't realise what a totally supercalifragilisticexpialidocious big brother you'd make!"

"No matter," sighed Face, shrugging his shoulders in a non-committal manner. "She's better off without me. I'd only bring her nothing but trouble."

There were definite undertones in Face's response, but Murdock didn't push it further. Instead he gave him one of his warm, lopsided grins.

"You know you can still rely on me," he said, the intense expression in his eyes bearing into Face with a fierce loyalty.

"I know, buddy," said Face. "Thanks!"

"Well I better let you finish drying off," said Murdock, ruffling up Face's wet hair as he got up from the chair. "Don't want you get a snuffle, now, do we?"

"Watch it Fly Boy!" grimaced Face in mild frustration, as he smoothed down his hair again.

Murdock stopped by the door and paused for a few seconds.

"By the way," he said softly. "Happy birthday, Face!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Frankie had finished checking the infantry list and had gone back into the house. He left Hannibal and BA outside, surveying the damage to Face's Vette with some concern.

"Wotcha make of that, Hannibal?" asked BA.

"I think Face got into more trouble than he is letting on," replied Hannibal, scowling morosely. "That shiner on his cheek looked like it came from someone's no. 9 boots – not a fist!"

"Face always was good at keepin' secrets," said BA, shaking his head in a disapproving manner. "Wotcha goin' to do?"

Hannibal's scowl grew deeper as he thought over his options. Face was a whinger and a whiner. He was always the one that would complain that the plan wouldn't work or how they were going to get stiffed by the client. But deep down, when it really mattered, he always came through for the team. Hannibal just wished that he would open up and trust the team when he needed his back covered. He guessed it was probably his survival instincts kicking in, because he didn't want to give anyone the opportunity to run out on him.

"He's a closed book at the moment," he finally replied. "But that don't mean I'm going to let this thing go. When we take the vehicles back to storage, I'm going to get Stockwell's men to take some swab tests from the Vette. Perhaps that will give us an idea of what Face has been up to – and who with!"

He jumped in the Vette and turned the engine on. Before he drove off, he turned to BA, who would be following behind him in the van.

"You gonna be alright flying Big Guy, or do we need to give you some happy juice?" he asked. Over the months, since they had worked for Stockwell, BA had gradually got used to flying as most of their missions had been outside the States.

BA paled slightly but nodded his head, mumbling furiously to himself about how "BA Baracus wasn't scared of anything", as he made his way over to the van.

[**Author's note: ****Soz for the delay in updating. ****Have been away on holiday and as it is the school holidays, I don't get much time for Fanfic stuff [sad face!] ****Thanks for reading and will try to update soon. ****I have two endings in mind for this story and not sure what one I'm going with yet.**]


	7. Chapter 6: Face -v- the Diary

**Chapter 6: Face -v- the Diary**

Face was a little bit peeved when he realised Hannibal had taken the Vette. He was sure he would be bombarded with another load of questions once he returned with BA from the storage depot. Especially when the Colonel insisted that he rode with him in one of the escort cars back to the airport.

But, surprisingly, Hannibal didn't give him the third degree about the state of the Vette. Apart from a few sarcastic comments, he didn't ask for any details.

In fact, he seemed more concerned about the state of Face's health. It was obvious he was in more pain than he was letting on. His movements were stiff and laboured and the side of his face was a mass of multi-coloured bruises.

"Make sure you get checked out properly when we get back to Langley!" ordered Hannibal, as he gave the Lieutenant a couple of aspirins to take the edge of the pain. He knew Face wouldn't take anything stronger, but he didn't want him to suffer unnecessarily.

"Yes, Sir," replied Face, meekly. He was rather ashamed of his previous, unprofessional behaviour. He had a lot of respect for Hannibal and the last thing he wanted to do was alienate him.

"Hannibal … about what I said before," he stammered, uneasily. "I … I … didn't mean it."

"I know, kid," replied Hannibal, switching easily into paternal mode. "Is there anything you wanna tell me, Face? I might be able to help."

It was on the tip of Face's tongue to spill the beans. God knows, he had thought of nothing else since he had driven back to Osceola National Park. But what could Hannibal do? Persuade Stockwell to give up the diary? There was more of a chance of Face joining the priesthood first! There was enough knowledge in the diary to bring down half the crooked politicians in Washington. Stockwell wanted that knowledge because then he would have the power that went with it.

Face had no doubt that Hannibal would do all he could to help. He would go after Radcliffe at a drop of a hat and would probably even catch him. But where would that leave Ellen? Radcliffe could order a hit on her from anywhere and at any time – even from a prison cell!

And if there was the remote possibility that Hannibal could retrieve the diary from Stockwell, then all the team would be in trouble. It could even put their pardons at risk and Face didn't want that to happen.

No, this was just one problem he had to deal with on his own. And if it meant he had to leave his family to keep them safe, then he was prepared to pay the price for betraying their loyalty. So he smiled back engagingly at Hannibal.

"It's nothing I can't handle, Colonel," he replied, with as much confidence as he could muster.

Hannibal bit back his frustration. Boy, why did Face have to be so stubborn!

"Okay," he said, keeping a lid on his frustration. He handed Face a bottle of water. "Take your medicine, kid."

Face played with the pills remorsefully in his hands for a few seconds.

"Just for the record, Hannibal," he finally said, shyly. "I wish you were my father!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The team had now arrived back at Langley. Due to Face's injuries, the General had agreed to give them some extended leave. Face was disappointed with the decision. He had hoped that Stockwell would have a mission lined up for them. He felt like a sitting duck waiting for Radcliffe's man to contact him.

On leaving Radcliffe, the driver had blindfolded Face before taking him back to his Vette, so he had no idea where he had been kept captive. After helping Face to pull his car out of the ditch, he gave him a cell phone, together with details of a telephone number, where Face could get in touch with his contact, Vincent Luciano.

After agreeing on a mutual "_code_" of contact, Face's instructions were to keep the phone until such time as they were ready to move. Face had discretely hidden the cell phone as soon as he had arrived back at the lodge and then again on returning to Langley.

A few days had now elapsed and Face was sitting alone in the bedroom. He stared ominously at the post card that had just been given to him by Frankie. The words "_T, Let's have dinner - L!_" were written frivolously on it. Frankie, who shared the bedroom with Face, winked knowing at him before going down to breakfast.

The post card was the signal that Face was to contact Luciano immediately. He would already have followed Face to Langley. Face had given Radcliffe's driver details of the special mailbox address that the team were allowed to use, if they wanted any personal mail sent to them. Of course everything would be vetted by the Ables first, before they delivered it to the house. They were used to Face receiving love letters, so weren't at all suspicious by the request!

Face hesitated before making the call. He was having second thoughts about the whole damn thing and was questioning his motives for not telling Hannibal. Did he really care if Ellen became a target? After all, she had hardly welcomed him into her life with open arms! He didn't owe her anything.

He sighed heavily. Despite his feelings of resentment, he knew he couldn't live with himself if anything bad happened to her or her family. After all, it wasn't his sister's fault they had a fugitive for a father and that she had become mixed up in this mess!

He slowly dialled the number. Luciano promptly answered it.

"You took your time, Peck!" he snarled.

"Well I had to wait until I was on my own," replied Face, indignantly.

"General Stockwell will be on a private flight leaving the Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport at 14:00 hours this afternoon to Cuba," came back the swift reply. "He has business with the State Officials to discuss certain contents of the diary. We need to move now whilst security around him is at a bare minimum."

By "bare minimum", Face assumed the General wouldn't have his guard dogs, Samson and Delilah, in tow. He briefly wondered how Luciano knew this information, but thought it best not to ask for clarification. He also knew that Stockwell would have the diary with him. There would be no way he would let it out of his sight – it was far too valuable!

"What do you want me to do? asked Face sullenly.

"I need you to get us past security and in to see Stockwell before he departs," said Luciano. "I'll leave the creative details up to you – just get me on that plane somehow!"

"Er, wait a minute!" interjected Face. "I can't just get up and walk out! In case you've forgotten, I'm under constant surveillance."

"It's your call, Lieutenant," snapped back Luciano.

With that he hung up. Face cursed under his breath. How the hell was he going to swing this? He looked at this watch. 8.30 am. Didn't give him much chance to get a scam together. Not only did he have to come up with a plan to breach security, but he also had to find a reason for leaving the house that wouldn't arouse Hannibal's suspicion. There was only one thing that might work.

He left his room and made his way downstairs. He paused in the hall, pondering over his game plan. He suddenly heard Hannibal coming down the stairs and quickly grabbed the nearby phone.

"Yes, okay, fine," he said in his most charming voice, pretending that he was talking to one of his girlfriends. I'll see you there, honey!"

He put the phone down to find Hannibal staring at him, with a wry smile on his face.

"You going somewhere, kid?" he asked, raising his eyebrows at him enquiringly.

"Gotta lunch date," responded Face, brightly, waving the post card casually at Hannibal. "I'm just about to clear it with Carla. I'll be along for breakfast shortly."

Hannibal didn't question Face's answer. It wasn't unusual for the team's resident Romeo to have a date lined up during their rare R&R time. All social outlets were always reported to Carla – General Stockwell's personal assistant - who made the customary arrangements for an Able to be in attendance somewhere in the background. Face picked up the phone again, as if he was going to make the call to Carla, whilst Hannibal made his way to the kitchen for breakfast.

Face waited for Hannibal to leave the hall before ringing Carla.

"Yes, Lieutenant," she asked, in her usual unemotional, monotone voice.

"I want to see the General," requested Face, keeping his voice low.

"Why?" she immediately asked.

"It's personal," replied Face.

There was a pause at the other end. Face knew he would need to give Carla more than that if he had any hope of being granted an audience with Stockwell.

"I want him to find out if AJ Bancroft mentions my mother in his memoirs", he suddenly blurted out, off the top of his head.

There was another pause.

"The General is very busy at the moment," she finally replied. "He is currently working on his private plane before flying out from the airport later today on some business."

"If I could just see him for ten minutes or so - I won't take up much of his time," implored Face, hoping to appeal to the softer side of the PA. "It's just … well …. it could be my only chance of finding out anything about her."

Face could hear pages being flicked over in the background, before Carla spoke again.

"OK, Lieutenant Peck," she finally relented. "I've slotted you in for midday. "The General will probably take a break for lunch then. I'll send Able 9 to pick you up at 11.30."

"Thanks, darling," replied Face. "Say, perhaps we could do lunch ….".

But Carla had already hung up the phone before Face had a chance to finish his sentence. Face sighed heavily. He went back upstairs to his room and fished out the cell phone from under his bed. He rang Luciano and relayed back to him his proposed plan.

"Good!" responded Luciano. "I'll intercept Able 9 and pick you up at 11.30. Make sure you don't keep me waiting!"

The connection broke off as Luciano hung up. Face hid the cell phone again and trudged downstairs to join the others in the kitchen. BA and Frankie were already at the table, eating their breakfast. Murdock was notably missing. He didn't stay in the main house with the rest of the team and had his own apartment a couple of miles away. Face's stomach churned as he realised he would probably never see his buddy again.

"Muesli?" asked Hannibal, breaking into Face's thoughts. He was standing by the cooker, grilling bacon and tomatoes whilst expertly flipping a fried egg at the same time.

Face nodded in acknowledgement as he sat down next to BA.

"Did you get clearance from Carla?" continued Hannibal, as he prepared Face's cereal, cutting up some strawberries and sprinkling them over the top. Face always liked strawberries mixed in with his muesli!

Face nodded again.

"Car's coming for me at 11.30," he said, as Hannibal put the bowl down in front of him. Face held Hannibal's gaze before adding in a slightly shaky voice, "Thanks, Colonel."


	8. Chapter 7: A ghostly encounter

**Chapter 7: A ghostly encounter**

Shortly before 11.30, Face emerged from his room, spruced up and dressed to perfection. Hannibal slapped him playfully on the back as he passed him by, whilst Frankie enquired whether Face could ask his date if she had a friend. BA was somewhere in the background sniggering, as he made some snide remark that he hoped Face would be "up to it" - making reference to his healing injuries.

The conman somehow managed to keep a smile plastered on his face, waving cheerfully as he made his way outside. It wasn't long before a car appeared on the drive. The dark-haired Italian got out and beckoned Face over.

"Vincent Luciano, I presume?" acknowledged Face.

"Lieutenant Peck?" responded Luciano, nodding briefly at Face as he came towards him. "Don't mind if I check you for wires, do you?" he added.

Face shrugged his shoulders as if couldn't care less, whilst the Italian quickly frisked him. Satisfied that Face wasn't bugged, he told him to get into the passenger seat.

"What did you do with Able 9?" asked Face as he climbed in the car, looking slightly alarmed as he half expected to see him lying tied up on the back seat.

"That's not your concern," replied Luciano, in a sinister voice, as he got into the driver's seat next to Face. "All you have to worry about is getting us through security so we can get to Stockwell.

Face was already starting to bottle it. It was only a short journey to the airport and by the time they got there, he was a bundle of nerves. His customary, laidback swagger seemed to have deserted him. It wasn't so much that he was scared. It was just that he couldn't get used to the idea that he was going behind his buddies' backs. He was sure they would never trust him again once this was all over.

Luciano pulled up just outside the private airfield and turned the engine off. He glared at Face in a menacing manner.

"Not having second thoughts, are you, Peck?" he drawled, almost as if he could read Face's mind.

Face tried to get a grip. The last thing he wanted to do was fall apart at such a crucial point of the proceedings. Even if the guys weren't directly involved in this, he still had Ellen's safety to think about.

"I was just thinking about my team," he replied, assertively. "I don't like deceiving them like this. I really don't see why they couldn't be told what was going on."

"The less people that know the better," barked back Luciano. "You said it yourself, Lieutenant. You and the team are under constant surveillance. No doubt Stockwell has got half the house bugged. How long do you think it would have taken for this to get out?"

Face knew the Italian was right. They could hardly make a move without some spook breathing down their necks! Everything they did was scrutinised down to the last detail. Besides, Face was sure Hannibal would have disapproved of double-crossing Stockwell. Although he despised the man, the Colonel understood and respected the military protocol they had between them. It would have been a big risk for Hannibal to take. But it still didn't help to ease Face's conscience.

Luciano could tell that Face was beginning to have doubts. He needed to pull something out the bag to get him focussed on the mission again.

"I admire your loyalty," he commented. "I guess you must take after your mother. After all, she did all _she_ could to protect _you_."

Face couldn't stop the uncontrolled gasp of shock that escaped from his mouth.

"You … you knew my mother!" The words just sounded like a torrent of incoherent noise to Face, as he jolted round towards Luciano.

"Sure!" snorted Luciano. "Well, I knew of her existence, at least. Your father stood on a lot of people's toes before he did a runner back in the 50s. Half the Mob, LA state-side, was looking for her. I was only a teenager at the time - about 13, I guess. But I remember Pops saying that if the two of you were found, it would help bring AJ out of hiding."

Face sat frozen to the spot as he listened to Luciano. His heart was pounding so hard, he thought it was going to explode through his chest.

"Did anyone ever find her?" he asked, in a hushed whisper.

"Not as far as I know," recalled Luciano. "She did one helluva job keeping the sharks from your door!"

Face felt a sense of pride welling up inside of him. He knew absolutely nothing about his mother and certainly no-one had ever divulged any information about her to him in this way before. It had never occurred to him that she might have been a hero! Could this be the reason why she left him at the orphanage - to protect him?

Seeing that Face was on the edge of reason, Luciano stoked the fire up a bit more.

"If you manage to pull this off, Peck, I'm sure Radcliffe would make it worth your while," he enticed, further. "If you're mother's out there, he'll find her."

Despite Face's excitement about Luciano's revelations, he still wasn't sure he trusted him.

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" he asked suspiciously. "I mean … if you had some sort of proof …"

Luciano sighed impatiently. He pulled out his wallet from his jacket pocket and opened it up. He took out a folded, rumpled black and white photo and gave it to Face. There were three people in the picture. Face recognised the young AJ Bancroft straight off. Next to him was a beautiful, young woman holding a baby, whom Face presumed must be him.

There was no mistaking that she was his mother. Same eyes; same smile; same shaped face. Jeez, it was like looking in a mirror! Face could only guess that her long, flowing hair was blonde, as the picture was in black and white. He turned the picture over and saw the words "_1951 - Richard – 1 year_" written on the back.

Face was so absorbed in the photo, that he didn't stop to think and ask Luciano what he was doing with it. All Face could see was an opportunity of finally finding out what had happened to his mom and why she had abandoned him.

"Are we doing this thing, Lieutenant?" asked Luciano.

Face looked up from the photo, his blue-grey eyes riddled with mixed emotions. If only there was another way round this. His scam of getting in to see Stockwell to find out if Bancroft had written about his mother in his memoirs, suddenly seemed plausible.

But would Stockwell tell him if he found anything out? After all, it was only because Murdock pushed him for the truth that he confirmed AJ was his father. Otherwise, he had been quite prepared not to tell Face anything. Face didn't trust Stockwell any more than he trusted Luciano or Radcliffe. But the diary was within his grasp – he could see for himself.

"Lieutenant?" repeated Luciano sternly. He looked at his watch. "Time is running out, Peck – for you and Miss Bancroft!"

Face was abruptly transported out of his daydream at the mention of Ellen's name. He had momentarily forgotten that her life was also hanging in the balance. No matter how many times Face tried to sort it all out rationally in his mind, Radcliffe was still holding all the cards.

"Let's do it!" he declared. He held out the photo to Luciano, but he refused to take it back.

"Keep it!" he drawled, as if he was doing him a favour. Face gave Luciano a grateful nod as he put it in his jacket pocket. He didn't see the Italian's evil sneer as he started the engine and advanced towards the checkpoint security barrier. "_Enjoy the moment while you still can, Bancroft,"_ he thought to himself.

**[AN: Many thanks to all those readers (and guest readers who I couldn't thank personally) for all your kind reviews and comments. Please keep 'em coming. Also thanks to all the faithful followers (you know who you are!) who have stayed with the story. Hope to wrap this up in the next posting.]**


	9. Chapter 8: A dangerous liaison

**Chapter 8: A dangerous liaison**

Face's head was all over the place as they drove up to the airport security checkpoint. Luciano glanced warily at him, worried that the Lieutenant was going to blow the scam.

"Hey, Blondie!" he hissed at him. "Any ideas how we're gonna get through the barrier? I don't exactly look like the picture on Able 9's security pass!"

"Huh!" muttered Face, his eyes losing their glazed look as he suddenly remembered he had a job to do. "Oh, don't worry – this will be a piece of cake! I know the guy on security. It's the airport we use when we have to fly a mission for Stockwell. Just flash the ID quickly and I'll do the rest."

Luciano scowled as he slowed down to stop at the barrier. He wasn't as confident as Face that this was going to work. One of the guards came out of the kiosk and approached the car, as Luciano wound down the dark, tinted window.

"ID?" requested the guard.

Luciano delved into the compartment in his door and quickly flashed the ID in front of the guard. He made sure his thumb covered part of the picture profile. The guard bent forward as if to take a closer look, when Face suddenly piped up from the passenger seat.

"Hi Mr Dansky!" he said in a friendly, up-beat voice. "How's it hanging?"

Mr Dansky immediately looked over at Face.

"Is that you, Temp?" he asked, a big smile on his face.

"The one and only!" beamed back Face. "How's that 30 year old bottle of malt whiskey holding out?"

Mr Dansky leant his arm on the window as he peered over at Face.

"Real smooth, boy!" he replied, with an appreciative whistle. "Real smooth!"

As the guard was now well and truly distracted, Luciano swiftly put the ID back in the door. Face engaged Mr Dansky in further meaningless jibber-jabber and then got back down to business again.

"Well, I can't hang around here all day, Mr D", he quipped. "I've got an appointment with the Old Man!"

Mr Dansky nodded, as if he understood who Face was referring to.

"Better not keep him waiting," he replied. He stepped away from the car and gestured to the other guard in the kiosk to raise the barrier. He waved at Face as Luciano drove the car through the checkpoint.

"Not just a pretty face, are you!" remarked Luciano, in an impressed voice.

"I have my moments!" replied Face.

The General had his own sectioned-off area on the airfield. Face pointed to where his small private jet was situated, just off the main runway. Luciano drove the car over to the jet, pulling up a few yards away. Luciano looked at the clock – it was just a little over 12 o'clock.

"Let's go!" he said to Face.

They both got out of the car. Luciano looked Face up and down for a few bemused seconds.

"You really are dressed to kill!" he joked, as he made his way round to the boot of the car.

Face declined to comment. Before closing his door, he took off his jacket and tie and flung them on the back seat. The Italian, meanwhile, walked round to the boot and took out a Springfield Osprey .45 revolver, together with a silencer. He put them both in his gun holster, which was tucked underneath his jacket.

"After you, Blondie!" he said to Face, as he slammed the boot shut.

Face walked nervously over to the jet. The steps were down and two bodyguards were lurking just inside the door at the top. They beckoned to Face and Luciano to come up. Face went first and Luciano followed him. The bodyguards nodded at them both as they walked past and then resumed their positions at the top of the stairs.

"It's just one big happy family here, ain't it!" whispered Luciano to Face, sarcastically.

Inside, the jet basically looked like an office. There were a couple of passenger seats each side of the aisle by the windows and an office chair and desk tucked away at the back of the aisle. Luciano sat down on one of the passenger seats, which was facing into the jet, in the opposite direction to where the two guards were positioned.

Stockwell was sitting behind his desk, surrounded by a pile of papers, a computer and fax machine.

"What's all this about, Lieutenant?" asked the General, as Face approached the desk.

Before Face had time to answer, Luciano, was up and out of his chair, deftly coupling the gun and silencer together. The two bodyguards, who were immediately alerted by the sudden movement, came hurtling down the aisle, pistols at the ready.

But they were no match for Luciano, who looked as cool as a cucumber as he took them both out with two well-aimed body shots from his gun. They immediately collapsed to the ground. Face looked on in horror as Luciano then pointed his gun at Stockwell.

"Give Peck the diary, General!" he snarled. "Nice 'n' easy now!"

Face held out his hand towards the General.

"You don't want to do this, Lieutenant," warned Stockwell. "It's not too late to …."

Face felt the blast of warm air waft past his ear as Luciano took a pot shot at the General. He took the bullet directly in the chest as he was propelled back in his seat, before flopping forward head first on the desk – straight on top of the diary!

"Are you crazy!" spluttered Face, his eyes open wide in complete disbelief.

"Just get the diary and let's get out of here!" ordered Luciano.

Face reached out across the desk and grabbed the diary, which was still opened on the page that Stockwell was reading. He felt a wave of repulsion well up inside him as he pulled the diary away from under Stockwell's slumped body, slamming it shut. He turned round to face Luciano, pausing for a few seconds, as if he wasn't sure what he was going to do next.

"Lieutenant!" cautioned Luciano, "There's no way back for you now!"

Face knew Luciano was right. Nothing he could do or say could possibly make this nightmare go away. He followed Luciano down the aisle, carefully stepping over the two stricken Ables on the way out.

Luciano was already standing at the top of the stairs, eager to make a quick getaway.

"Give it to me!" snapped Luciano.

Face reluctantly handed over the diary. Luciano stared at Face ominously and for a moment Face thought he was going to shoot him. He braced himself for the worst, but Luciano's attention was suddenly distracted by the sound of an approaching car. Instead, he grabbed Face by the arm and pulled him in front of him.

Before the car stopped, Face saw Hannibal jumping out of the passenger seat. Murdock, BA and Frankie, instantly followed his lead from their positions in the back seat. The last person out of the car was the driver, whom Face presumed must be one of the Ables.

"Friends of yours!" barked Luciano, angrily, in Face's ear. "Have you set me up, Pretty Boy!"

"No, no!" stammered Face, in bewilderment. "They must have followed me!"

"I hope for your sake you're right!" growled back Luciano.

Luciano pushed Face forward, holding the gun to his head as they walked down the jet stairs.

"Stay where you are!" Luciano yelled out to the team. "Not unless you want to see Blondie's brains splattered all over the place!"

Everyone on the ground froze. Luciano and Face came slowly down the stairs and over to the car. Luciano eyed the men up calmly before shooting out the front tyre on the Able's car. They all instinctively dived to the ground for cover. He told Face to open the driver's door.

"Get in and slide over," order Luciano.

Face did as he was told, afraid that Luciano would start shooting at the guys. As he bent down to get in the car, Luciano hit him hard over the head with the butt of his gun, knocking him unconscious. He gave him a shove and jumped in, pushing Face over to the passenger seat. He slammed the door shut, flung his weapon on the back seat and hit the acceleration pedal.

He drove quickly back to the security barrier. He waved at Mr Dansky, who obligingly put the barrier up for him, not realising what had gone on. The kiosk was on the driver's side of the car and because of the dark, tinted windows, he couldn't see that Face was spark out in the front seat. Luciano's evil smirk returned to his face as he sped off.

He was aware that he only had one bullet left in his magazine and that was reserved for Richard Bancroft. The only reason why he hadn't blown him away on the jet, was because he needed him to get away from the airfield.

But he could wait a bit longer. After all, he had already waited over 32 years for this moment – a few more minutes wouldn't make any difference!


	10. Chapter 9: Biting the bullet!

**Chapter 9: Biting the bullet!**

[_Warning: There will be some violence in this chapter as I am going to make Face suffer. Apologies in advance to all you Face-loving fans!_]

After about ten minutes, Face started to stir from his unconscious state. He moaned out loud as he rubbed the back of his head with his hand. Realising that he was sprawled over the seat, with his head banging against the passenger door, he forced himself up to a sitting position.

One glare from Luciano promptly refreshed his memory as to the recent events. Face contemplated taking the risk of almost certain death by jumping out of the car, rather than facing the unknown of what was about to happen.

But his thoughts kept returning to Ellen. He was mindful that she could be in great danger. Plus Luciano had information on his mom, so he had to try and keep him sweet.

"Look!" he said, trying to sound as apologetic as possible. "I didn't set you up back there. You have to believe me. Please don't take this out on Ellen."

Although he wouldn't admit it, Luciano believed him. The look of complete surprise on Peck's face when the car appeared, seemed very genuine.

"That's Radcliffe's call," he retorted. "You'll know her fate soon enough."

Despite his obvious ulterior motive, Luciano was finding it very hard to dislike the handsome young conman. He had courage and loyalty, two qualities that Luciano actually admired him for. He frowned irritably, as he reminded himself that his family's honour was at stake and that this was payback time.

Face suddenly began to feel nervous. He became aware that they had left the main highway and seemed to be heading out towards the back of beyond. There were no other cars, buildings or other signs of civilisation in sight. The over-hanging trees on either side of the twisty country lane appeared to form a foreboding tunnel of doom.

Luciano eventually turned off the lane and drove down an almost unidentified dirt track. It wasn't until he took another sharp turn to the right that Face saw a small, barn-like building up ahead. His heart sunk as he realised, that without a trace, no-one was going to find him all the way out here.

Luciano pulled up outside the Barn. The door opened and Face instantly recognised the three approaching figures as the goons who had kidnapped him in Florida. One of them opened the passenger door and dragged Face out of the car with one hand. He held on to his shoulders as Radcliffe made his appearance.

Luciano also got out the car. After retrieving his gun from the back seat, he took off the silencer and put the weapon back in his holster. He then gave the diary straight to his boss.

Radcliffe took the diary, a smug grin on his face. However, as he flicked through the pages, the smug look was very soon replaced with a dark, unyielding anger.

"Is this a joke!" he fumed, throwing the diary back at Luciano.

Luciano looked taken back as he somehow managed to catch the diary. He opened it up, a puzzled look on his face, as he browsed through the contents.

"I … don't … understand," he said slowly. He glared furtively at Face, as if he was the answer to all the confusion.

"What?" questioned Face, apprehensively, returning Luciano's glare with his own puzzled expression.

"The diary is fake!" ranted Luciano. "It's complete gibberish – just a load of words that don't mean anything. Stockwell must have switched it with the real one!"

Radcliffe did not look pleased. In fact, he looked like he was going to self-combust!

"Is someone going to tell me what went wrong!" he retorted.

Luciano marched over to Face, who was still being held by one of the goons. He slapped him violently across the face with the back of his hand, momentarily stunning the Lieutenant.

"You know, Bancroft, for a moment there, I almost believed you!" snarled Luciano.

Face could feel the warm trickle of blood flowing down from his nose, which had taken most of the impact from Luciano's strike.

"I don't know what you mean!" he grimaced.

Luciano swiftly punched Face a second time, this time in the stomach.

"You must have known it was a set-up!" continued Luciano. "Why else would the rest of the A-Team have turned up?"

"You mean the A-Team know about this?" queried Radcliffe, in alarm.

Luciano nodded in acknowledgment.

"Yeah!" he drawled. "Blondie here must have tipped them off!"

"Then we need to get out of here, quick!" retorted Radcliffe. "I'm afraid the deal's off, Peck. You've just hammered the final nail in your sister's coffin!"

"No … wait …!" stammered Face, who looked absolutely distraught.

But Luciano didn't give him the chance to object, as he proceeded to pummel him with a series of face and body blows. Face began to see stars as the onslaught brought him down on to his knees. The Goon still had a tight hold on him, making it impossible for him to fight back.

"Finish him off, Luciano and then get out of here!" said Radcliffe, his voice full of malice. He gestured to his henchmen to follow him as he hurried back to his car. The Goon let go of Face and followed Radcliffe. Within seconds they were driving off out of the clearing.

Face promptly dropped down on to all fours as his strength gave way. His face stung, his body ached and all his spirit had been punched out of him. Luciano circled round him for a few seconds, like a vulture waiting to make its kill.

"I wonder what mommy would think about her little boy now!" he ridiculed. "Such a shame she's not here to hold your hand for you!"

"Please!" begged Face, managing to push himself back up on to his knees. "If you know anything about my mother, please tell me!"

Luciano kicked Face in the ribs, who winced as he doubled up in pain.

"What for?" he laughed, as he continued circling round again. "It ain't gonna do you no good, now!"

"What exactly have you got against me?" asked Face, his words becoming thick and slurred as his mind was beginning to get hazy. "This was never just about me getting the diary, was it?"

"My father was one of the people AJ Bancroft fleeced," replied Luciano, in a revengeful tone. "Bancroft run off with almost everything my Pops had worked hard for. He left him with nothing but disgrace and dishonour. In the end he took his own life because he couldn't live with the shame that had been bestowed on our family."

"I'm sorry, but I can't change what my father did," wheezed Face. "You weren't the only one that got short-changed!"

Luciano finally stopped circling. He took his gun out from his holster, stepping back a few paces from Face.

"Maybe not, Lieutenant, but I believe in a life for a life," he taunted. "I guess your Guardian Angel finally ran out on you."

Face closed his eyes as he waited for death to embrace him. His whole life flashed in front of him. It was as if someone had pressed the Fast Forward button on a cassette machine, as faces from his past and present collided together to make a collage of good and bad memories. As he heard the crack of the gunshot go off like a firework, his last thoughts were that of betrayal, heartache and regrets.


	11. Chapter 10: Rewind!

**Chapter 10: Rewind!**

Shortly after Face left to liaise with Luciano, Hannibal received a telephone call from the General.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" asked Hannibal.

"We've got a positive ID back from the fingerprints on Lieutenant Peck's Vette," replied Stockwell.

"It's about time!" chided Hannibal.

"Well, you understand that the Lieutenant's social shenanigans weren't top priority!" rebuffed Stockwell.

"You wouldn't be saying that if you saw the state of him when he came back!" retorted Hannibal, annoyed that Stockwell didn't seem to be taking the incident seriously.

"Well anyway," continued the General, ignoring Hannibal's annoyance. "The prints were ID'd as belonging to one Donny Valachi. His profile is linked to several Mob members and gangsters. His most recent link is with an ex-director of the Office of Security for the CIA – an American by the name of Colonel Thomas Radcliffe."

"Yeah!" responded Hannibal, in an interested voice. "So what exactly did this ex-director of CIA do?"

"Between 1960 and 1961, there was evidence that he was involved in a plot to assassinate the Cuban Head of State," explained Stockwell. "He was assisted by his connections with the Mafia. Needless to say, he disappeared before any court case came about."

"I take it this was mentioned in Bancroft's diary?" said Hannibal.

"Correct!" confirmed Stockwell. "We put out word in the criminal underground a few days ago, that I would be taking a trip to Cuba on business today. Radcliffe took the bait and we think he may try and make a hit to get the diary."

"What makes you think that?" said Hannibal.

"Peck rang Carla this morning," said Stockwell. "She said he wanted to see me to discuss Bancroft's diary – specifically about whether or not he mentions his mother."

Alarm bells started to ring in Hannibal's head as he puffed nervously on his ever-present cigar.

"That's not what he told me!" he said. "He told me he was going out on a date!"

"Shortly after Peck made the call, we found Able 9 knocked out and tied up in one of the aeroplane hangars," continued Stockwell. His ID had been taken, so chances are the perpetrator is acting in cahoots with Peck."

There was an awkward pause. It all seemed too much of a coincidence for Face not to be involved in this somehow.

"He's going after the diary!" deduced Hannibal. "My guess is they've probably used Ellen to blackmail him."

"My thoughts exactly," said Stockwell. "Luckily, I'd already made provisions for her safety."

"I'm glad I put that bug in his cereal this morning," frowned Hannibal. He knew that Face was up to something! As soon as they had come back to Langley, he had asked BA and Frankie to construct a tiny, water-proof, bugging device - small enough to put in his watch – so he could keep tabs on him. This was the first time the conman had made any mention of leaving the house, but as he already had his watch on when he came down to breakfast, the Colonel did the next best thing and put it in his cereal!

"Well, I think we should let him and his accomplice come and get the diary," said Stockwell. "I'm already on my private jet. With a bit of luck, if he isn't acting with Radcliffe then the trail will lead back to him."

"We can't let him go into this thing on his own," declared Hannibal firmly. "He's going to need some back-up. Get an Able round here pronto. We'll pick up Murdock on the way to the airfield."

"I am quite capable of taking care of things this end," reproached Stockwell, obviously riled by Hannibal's forthright attitude towards him.

"Just don't do anything to put Face in danger," warned Hannibal. "Whatever he asks for, you better give it to him. I mean it, General – don't try any sneaky, backhanded manoeuvres! I want this played straight down the line. We'll get there as soon as we can."

"Of course, Colonel," interjected Stockwell. "After all, Lieutenant Peck hasn't finished doing things my way yet!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Face was still kneeling down on the ground with his eyes closed, wondering why he couldn't feel the sting of the bullet entering his body. He opened his eyes just in time to see Luciano hitting the deck. In the background, he could just make out the familiar white hair of Colonel Hannibal John Smith, rifle in hand, grinning at him like the Cheshire Cat.

BA and Frankie were already making a bee-line for Luciano, who had been hit in the shoulder by Hannibal's bullet. Murdock ran straight to Face, who had fallen in a crumpled heap on the floor.

"Facey, Facey, speak to me buddy!" he cried out, his doleful brown eyes misting up with tears as he pulled the Lieutenant into his arms. The pilot was well aware just how close he had come to losing his best friend. He was relieved to hear Face murmuring to himself.

Murdock helped him up into a sitting position and gently started to dust down his clothes. Hannibal came over and knelt down beside them. Face was in bits, as he lapsed into a deluge of double Esperanto!

"Ellen's dead … and he killed Stockwell … and the Ables. And Radcliffe's got away … and … and …!

"It's okay, Face, we've got it covered," interrupted Hannibal, putting a firm hand on Face's shoulder to calm him down. "No-one died. Stockwell set the whole thing up. He knew you were coming and took precautions."

Face looked at Murdock, as if he didn't understand what the Colonel was saying.

"Bullet proof vests, muchacho!" explained the pilot.

"So he's … he's not dead!" spluttered Face. Thinking back to the incident, he wondered why he didn't see much blood!

"I'm afraid not!" confirmed Hannibal. "And as for Radcliffe, we almost collided with him as he was making his getaway. Stockwell's men got them all."

"What about Ellen?" enquired Face, anxiously.

"Safe as houses," said Hannibal. "Stockwell's had a spook staking her out ever since he got wind something was going down. As far as he can tell, no-one's made any threats towards her or contacted her."

Face sighed in relief.

"So she doesn't know anything about this?" he said.

Hannibal shook his head.

"Good," said Face. "I want it to stay that way, Hannibal. There's no point in getting her all worried again. She's trying to put all this business behind her."

"Whatever you say, kid," said Hannibal.

BA came over and joined the group. He and Frankie had administered basic first aid to Luciano's wound to stop the bleeding and now Frankie was standing guard over him with his rifle.

"You okay, Faceman?" he asked. Face managed a half-smile when he heard the concern in BA's voice.

"All the better for seeing you, Big Guy," he replied in a shaky voice. He suddenly turned to Hannibal with a perplexed look on his face. "How did you know where to find me? I mean – Luciano frisked me earlier and didn't find any wires."

"Well, let's just say I sprinkled more than just strawberries on your muesli this morning!" chuckled Hannibal. "I knew you were up to something when you said you had a date. There's no way you would have met a girl looking like the Elephant Man!"

Face's jaw hit the ground as he realised the conman had just been conned! Hannibal briefed him quickly on all the latest developments and how they had pieced everything together. He turned serious again as he addressed his young charge.

"What the hell did you think you were doing, kid!" he reprimanded, sternly. "You didn't have to deal with all this on your own. When are you gonna learn to trust us?"

"I'm sorry, Hannibal!" responded Face, looking totally downcast and miserable. "I didn't know what else to do. I knew Stockwell wouldn't give Radcliffe the diary and then he said he'd go after Ellen. I just couldn't take the risk that she would get hurt."

"But I don't understand, Face" interjected Murdock. "If you did what Radcliffe asked, why was this guy holding a gun at your head?"

"The diary was a fake," said Face. "Luciano thought I had double-crossed him. Plus it transpired that he was holding a grudge against AJ." Face shuddered violently as he added, "But that's another story!"

"Hang on!" backtracked Hannibal. "What do you mean the diary was fake?"

Face shrugged his shoulders. "Like you just said, Colonel – Stockwell took precautions."

As if on cue, Stockwell's car drove into the clearing. He got out with Ables 5 and 6 and walked over to Luciano. He was still sitting on the ground, pale-faced, but defiant. Stockwell asked him a few questions and then he was pulled to his feet by one of the Ables and handcuffed.

"Take him to his car and don't let him out of your sight!" ordered Stockwell to Frankie and Abel 5. He then made his way towards Face, with Abel 6 close behind.

"Glad to see you made it in one piece, Lieutenant," he said, with his usual smarmy arrogance.

Hannibal immediately turned on the General in fury.

"You switched diaries, you son of a gun!" he exclaimed. "That wasn't in the plan, Stockwell!"

The General flinched under the weight of the Colonel's cold, penetrating glare, but he managed to keep his pompous expression intact.

"In every victory, someone has to pay the price," he said, unsympathetically.

Before Hannibal could answer, BA lunged towards the General with lightning speed, grabbing him menacingly around the throat. He pushed him back roughly against the barn door.

"So you were gonna let Face take the wrap!" he barked in the General's face. "The only vic'try round here will be when I wipe that smug look of ya face!"

"Get him off me!" choked back Stockwell. Hannibal and Murdock stood their ground. It was Able 6 who stepped forward and tried to prise the Sargent's hands away from his throat. After a short tussle, BA finally released his hold as Able 6 held him in a vice-like grip.

The General spluttered and coughed as he gasped for air. His eyes almost bulged out of their sockets as he tenderly touched his neck. BA glared back at him, his face smouldering in anger. After Stockwell regained his composure, he finally managed to speak.

"I had to look at the bigger picture," rasped Stockwell, managing to slip a degree of humility into his hoarse voice. "There was too much valuable information in the memoirs to risk losing the diary."

"Well at least I was right about something!" said Face, reflectively. "There was no way you would have swapped me for the diary!"

"If Radcliffe had been your accomplice, Lieutenant, my Ables would have taken him out on the jet," insisted Stockwell. "Luciano didn't fit the profile we had on Radcliffe. I had to let you go otherwise I wouldn't have got Radcliffe. Luciano wouldn't have given Radcliffe up and would probably have been out on bail within the hour. Besides, how was I to know that Luciano had ulterior motives?"

Hannibal cursed in exasperation. Why did Stockwell always have an answer to everything!

"If you ever pull a stunt like this again, Stockwell", he threatened, "I swear I'm gonna let BA finish off what he started!"

"What's going to happen now?" asked Face. He had gone deadly white and he was finding it hard to keep up with what was going on.

"You need to see a doctor, kid," said Hannibal. "And no arguments!"

"Able 6 can take you all back to Langley in my car," said Stockwell. "The doctor can look at Peck there. Abel 5 and myself will deal with Luciano."

Able 6 let go of BA, who snarled at Stockwell as he passed him by. He bent down and with Murdock's help, they got Face to his feet.

"Come on little brother," said BA, his handling of Face as gentle and caring as if he was dealing with a delicate child. "Let's get you to the car."


	12. Chapter 11: Catch-22

**Chapter 11: Catch-22**

Back at Langley, the doctor had finished attending to Face. He was pretty battered and bruised and had a couple of cracked ribs. Apart from that, the doctor confirmed it was nothing a bottle of painkillers and rest wouldn't cure. Face was exhausted both mentally and physically and slipped in and out of a restless slumber during the rest of the day. They guys took turns keeping an eye on him and soon early evening was upon them.

Murdock was sitting by Face's beside, reading one of his comics. He was suddenly aware that his buddy was awake and looking straight at him with an intense, melancholy look in his eyes.

"What is it Face?" asked Murdock, picking up on the vibes.

"I need you to do something for me," said Face in a quiet voice. "I can rely on you, right?"

"Of course you can!" affirmed Murdock.

Face slipped his hand under his pillow and pulled out the black and white photograph. He gave it to Murdock, who gawped in astonishment as he scrutinised the picture.

"Is this who I think it is?" he said.

Face nodded.

"She's beautiful!" sighed Murdock. "As if there would have been any doubt that she wouldn't be! Where did it come from, muchacho?"

"Luciano gave it to me," said Face. "I'm not sure how he got it, but he seemed to know things about her, Murdock. He said that when AJ ran out on us, half the Mob was looking for him. When they couldn't find him, they came after me and mom. I think that's why she left me at the orphanage. She didn't abandon me – she was trying to protect me!"

Face paused to give Murdock, who was listening intently, a chance to take in what he was saying.

"And you wanna find out more?" assumed Murdock.

"I just need to know if there was a chance she made it," responded Face.

"What do you want me to do?" asked Murdock.

"Speak to Luciano for me," pleaded Face. "See if you can find anything out. I'd go, but well, I'm a bit indisposed at the moment."

Murdock had never seen Face so animated about his mother before. In the few, very brief chats they'd had about her in the past, Face had switched off completely and refused to talk about her. He had done a good job in hiding his bitterness and resentment, but Murdock could see it lurking deep within his eyes whenever she was mentioned in conversation.

"I'll speak to Stockwell," said the pilot. "I'm sure he'll be able to make the arrangements. After all, it's the least he can do under the circumstances."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

[_There will be some strong, adult language in this section, which I hope won't cause too much offence._]

The next day Stockwell made the arrangements for Murdock to meet with Luciano in the building where he was being held. As the Italian stared across the interview room at him, there was something about him that made Murdock's skin crawl.

"Have you come to do Peck's dirty work for him!" jeered Luciano. "Too scared to face me himself?"

"Well being beaten to a pulp and almost killed execution style, tends to have that effect on a person!" sniped back Murdock.

"It was nothing personal against Peck," said Luciano. "It's all about family honour at the end of the day. I'm sure you understand."

"Tell me about his mother?" said Murdock, not wishing to spend any longer in the room with this obnoxious, greasy Italian than he needed to.

"Well, she'd know all about family honour!" said Luciano. "Boy, the things she did to protect her little boy held no bounds!"

Murdock wasn't sure, but he thought he detected a hint of sarcasm in Luciano's voice.

"What do you mean?" said Murdock. "I thought you told Peck his mother kept half the Mob from their doorstep."

"She did – at first," replied Luciano. "But I only gave Peck the fairytale version. Oh yeah, she was smart and one hell of a looker! She moved around constantly and changed her name so she couldn't be tracked down. But towards the end she was nothing more than a dirty whore, who got her kicks from shooting up whenever she got the chance!"

Murdock's stomach flipped over at this disconcerting revelation.

"I don't believe you!" You're lying!" he barked back, a deep scowl darkening his features.

"Makes no difference to me what you believe," said Luciano, calmly putting his hand-cuffed hands on the table. He peered at Murdock through half-slit eyes before continuing. "Did Peck ever wonder where I got that picture from?"

Murdock glared furiously back at Luciano. He wasn't sure if he wanted to hear any more. But Face was relying on him to find out what happened. He couldn't back out now.

"Just cut to the chase!" he retorted.

"My father pulled it out of her grasp when he found her lying dead from a heroin overdose," said Luciano, viciously. "According to Pops, Peck wasn't with her when they found her body. For all I know, she could still be rotting away in that stinking, dirty grovel she lived in!"

His face became sinister and disturbing as he continued.

"I found the same picture in Pops' hand, two days later when he took his own life. With her gone and Bancroft Junior out of the picture – well I guess he thought he had lost any chance of finding AJ Bancroft."

Murdock was mortified. How was he going to relay all this to Face? It would break him for sure. He felt like he was suffocating and needed to get out of the room and gather his thoughts together. He nodded at the guard standing in the corner, who had escorted Luciano into the room.

"I'm finished here," he said, swallowing down the bile that had risen in his throat. He rose from the table, but just before he left the room, he came back to where Luciano was sitting, grabbing hold of his wrists, to get his attention.

"If you ever come near Richard Bancroft again," he snarled. "I will find you, cut you up and send you home to your mother in small pieces. Nothing personal – just a matter of family honour. Capiche!"

As he turned and left the room, the look of sheer terror on Luciano's face gave Murdock a great deal of satisfaction.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Maybe it was a side effect of the painkillers, but ever since Murdock had arrived back from visiting Luciano, Face appeared to be floating on cloud nine. He was showing the guys the photo, with an adoring look in his eyes. He had convinced himself that his mom was a hero and that she had given him up to protect him from his father's enemies.

Well, that was partly true, thought Murdock to himself. Did he really need to know the rest? After all, he only had the word of that vindictive scumbag, Luciano, to go on. He had probably made the whole damn thing up! If she had moved around and changed her name, then how could he be sure the body they found was Samantha Bancroft.

_[The photo – don't forget he had the photo, a little voice nagged in the back of his head.]_

"What did Luciano say?" asked Face.

Those four little words threw Murdock into a complete turmoil. Everyone was looking at him and that little nagging voice was urging him to tell Face the truth.

The truth! Murdock suddenly thought back to what Face said on the day he came back after his disappearance. _"Perhaps it might have been for the best if I didn't know the truth."_

Murdock knew he couldn't break Face's heart again. He had been through so much already. It was bad enough that he had to live with the stigma of being AJ Bancroft's son and then going through the rejection from his half-sister. What harm would it do to let him have good memories about his mom?

"She's everything Luciano said she was, Faceman!" he said finally, the words sticking in his throat as he tried to sound convincing. "She was smart, beautiful and completely devoted to her son."

Face's smile of elated joy blinded everyone in the room.

"Does he know what happened to her?" continued Face, the emotion in his voice reaching breaking point as the tears streamed down his face.

As Murdock looked into Face's hopeful, expectant eyes, he felt a shiver of betrayal run down his spine. Maybe one day he'd tell him the truth. But not now. Not like this.

"I'm sorry, buddy," he said, screwing up his face under the burden of the question. "She had to keep moving around and changing her name. Chances are she'll never be found now. I'm so sorry, muchacho."

"It's okay," came back Face's soft reply. He clutched the photo to his chest as if it was a lifeline to something good and pure.

"Thanks, Murdock – I knew I could rely on you."


	13. Epilogue: The Lullaby

**Epilogue: The Lullaby**

[_Timeline: Back to 7 December 1954 - Los Angeles_]

**[****_Warning: This chapter has strong references to drug abuse, which I hope won't be offensive or distressful. If you are a young teenager reading this, please don't try this at home (or anywhere else for that matter). It is my personal opinion that taking drugs isn't cool and I don't want to glamorise it here. The lullaby below was called Child of Moonlight and was written by Amy Robbins-Wilson, but it wouldn't have been around in the 1950s.]_**

When Samantha Bancroft left her son at the orphanage, she was determined she was going to turn her life around. She was going to clean herself up, get a job and bring back her son. First though, she just needed a little something to calm her nerves and stop her hands from shaking.

Before long she had bought what she needed from a grubby little dealer on the corner of her street. She made her way back to her apartment, her teeth chattering together, not only from the bitter wind, but also from the cold sweats that threatened to take over her body.

As she approached the front door, she realised, with some alarm, that the lock had been picked and the door had been left slightly ajar. She gingerly pushed it open and gasped in horror as saw the ransacked room before her.

The bad men had found her again. Would they ever leave her alone? Perhaps it was her fault. After all, she'd hardly been discreet recently. She was scared because she knew they would come back, but she was tired of running. She had no fight left in her.

Thank God Richard wasn't here. But what if they tried to find him? Could she trust herself not to tell them where he was? She knew she couldn't take the chance.

Within a short space of time, her latest fix was pumping through her veins, bringing with it the pain and then the addictive sense of euphoria that she craved so much. She had doubled her usual dosage, because she knew this time she wouldn't be coming back from her trip. She would make that ultimate sacrifice for her son if it meant she could keep him protected.

She sat down at the table, in the chair that Richard had used at breakfast. She was clutching the only photograph she had left of him. She could still hear the little tune that he had been humming to himself. It was the melody of a lullaby that she used to sing to him before he went to bed. She sang the words quietly to herself as the effects of the heroin began to make her feel sleepy.

_You are my child of moonlight  
you call the angels down.  
There is a peace within my heart,  
whenever you're around._

Her blood pressure started to dip as her heart began to beat erratically.

_The stars at night they all shine bright,  
and darling so do you.  
You are my child of moonlight  
and I'll always love you._

Soon the flow of oxygen to her lungs started to reduce, making it hard for her to breathe.

_You are my child of shooting stars,  
you are my wish come true.  
My heart had never held such love,  
until my arms held you._

As she began to drift into a deeper sleep, her respiratory system began to shut down.

_The stars at night they all shine bright,  
and darling so do you.  
You are my child of moonlight  
and I'll always love you._

Her breathing became slower as she uttered her last, final words.

_"__Be happy my precious. Be safe. Be free."_

**Fini**

[**_AN: Well I hope I managed to tie up all the loopholes in this story. It's been a bit hectic and I literally wrote most of this stuff in my sleep (you can probably tell – ha, ha)! I wanted Face's mom to remain a mystery to him, otherwise I think he would lose all his vulnerability and charm. I may do a follow-up at some point. Thanks for reading and if you feel moved in any way, leave me a review and make my day._**]


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